


Lose The Traits That Worry Me

by HectorRashbaum (FifteenDozenTimes)



Category: Jonas Brothers, Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-19
Updated: 2011-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-14 22:05:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FifteenDozenTimes/pseuds/HectorRashbaum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick's back on Broadway, to rave reviews. Two out of three of Joe's singles have gone to number one, and the whole album's rapidly approaching platinum. Kevin's gone from being the punch line in a joke he didn't realize anyone was telling until it was too late to the punch line of a setup that didn't involve him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lose The Traits That Worry Me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://sage99.livejournal.com/profile)[**sage99**](http://sage99.livejournal.com/)'s [prompt](http://community.livejournal.com/bandomxdisney/872.html?thread=10344#t10344) "After his band breaks up for his brothers to do solo projects, Kevin ends up working as a studio guitarist for Panic".

The phone call is surprising for three reasons.

One, Kevin hasn't spoken to anyone in just over a week. Joe and Nick check up on him - Nick more frequently, Joe with more sincerity - but they prefer texts and e-mails. The divorce has been final long enough he hasn't had to talk to Danielle or a lawyer for ages, he has enough groceries to last him another week, and he hasn't had the energy to actually call his parents. Nick's reporting to them, he knows, so at least they shouldn't be worrying too much.

Two, the unknown number turns out to be Pete Wentz's. Kevin knew, even if he'd forgotten, Pete had his number, but the last time he talked to Pete their contract with Hollywood was up and they were label shopping. Decaydance wouldn't have been right for them even if they hadn't decided to call it quits, so it's not like they talked much even then.

Third, it's an offer to be in a band. Well, to play for a band. Maybe tour for a band. Kevin's not stupid, nor is he delusional; he's well aware he wasn't the best guitarist in the Jonas Brothers even before they added a backing band, and he'd kind of accepted that without nepotism he didn't really have a place in music. Not on the stage, anyway.

"You sound like you need to get out of the house," Pete says, and it's kind of a weird thing for someone he barely knows to say, especially someone who's calling with his professional hat on, but Kevin can't really argue.

Actually, there's a fourth surprising thing about that phone call - Pete makes the offer sound so convincing Kevin spends an hour Googling, two hours listening to a pair of cds, and then calls Pete back with a "yes".

*

"I can't believe someone with a head as big as yours could be as stupid as you're being," Brendon says. "There must be, like, eighty pounds of brain in there."

Spencer throws half a drumstick at him, then the other half. One hits Brendon - well, nowhere near his throat, but apparently close enough for him to clutch it and start in about how Spencer has no respect for his instrument.

"Um," Kevin says, as quietly as he can while still being heard over the noise. "Does this mean we should break for lunch, or something?"

"That's what they're arguing over," Dallon says, rifling through a stack of take-out menus. It takes Kevin a second, working backwards from the stick-throwing through whose mom did what last night through who killed who in what video games when, but he gets there, because, right, Spencer had said something about not being able to live on pizza alone. Dallon hands over half the pile of menus. "It'll take at least another half hour, we can just go ahead and order."

"I'll delicate your mom's instrument," Spencer says, and tosses another drumstick.

*

Working with Brendon is a lot like working with Joe. Kevin isn't sure yet whether that's a bad thing or a good thing, it's just...a thing. Sometimes a thing that makes him kind of glad he was so insecure about how little he knew about Panic's music he marathon practiced before he ever set foot in a room with them. Especially since Spencer's a little more serious, but he's no Nick, and nobody keeps Joe in line like Nick.

"I think we should make them compete," Brendon says, tapping his pen over the list of potential set list songs he's making them run through so he can make an actual set list based on what Kevin and Dallon can handle.

"Yes," Spencer says. "Why?"

"Ryan's parts. Unless we just want to skip those, we'd just have to do more from Pretty. Odd. and...yeah."

"Dallon," Spencer says, after a beat.

"Wait," Kevin says, and instantly regrets it, because he's gotten really good at blending into the background but now everyone's looking at him and he kind of has to finish. "Why?"

"I was going to make them do an American Idol thing, Spence," Brendon says. "You were gonna be Simon, it was gonna be awesome."

"I don't think Kevin has the teen angst to pull it off," Spencer says, and there's this glint in his eye - Kevin doesn't know Spencer well at all, but he knows that glint. He probably should have kept quiet, it's not like he even wants to sing. Or, at least, not this. Kevin's shower repertoire is all Brad Paisley and the occasional Taylor Swift, he's not the right person to scream about teen hearts beating faster or whatever. "I can back up my argument."

Brendon's eyes light up at that. Kevin might be a little bit screwed.

When Spencer's gotten his laptop out and on, and the song starts, Kevin mentally amends that - he is a _lot_ screwed.

"I am, um," he says, too quickly, standing up before he knows how that sentence ends. "Uh. Going to get us lunch. Sandwiches, and stuff."

It takes almost an hour, because Kevin doesn't actually know this part of town well and has to look up where to find sandwiches and stuff. He isn't the guy who ducks out of rehearsals for hours, just like he isn't the guy who shouts about teen angsty things. Maybe this whole thing is wrong for him at least as much as he's wrong for it.

When Kevin makes it back, no one comments on how long he was gone. Spencer and Dallon are playing something, Camisado, maybe, and Brendon...Brendon is singing, loudly, "Pizza Girl".

He changes it to "Sandwich Boy" when he sees Kevin.

*

Spencer catches Kevin's arm when he's on his way out, apologizes so sincerely it's almost hard to look at him. He says _if_ he embarrassed Kevin, or upset him, like there might be some other reason he'd just skip out for an hour to pick up food when they've been ordering in all week.

Of course, Spencer doesn't know Kevin, doesn't know he's not likely to just get up and wander off for a while.

"This is new for us, too," Spencer says. Kevin doesn't know which one of them he's reminding.

*

Touring has never been Kevin's favorite thing. He's a homebody, and a little too into luxury, and touring is basically the polar opposite of sitting at home on the world's most comfortable couch. And it's weirder now than it's been since they first brought in the bulldozer guys, because he knows a lot about the music they make, and the jokes they like, and he knows every one of their favorite takeout meals, but he knows nothing about living with them.

"Awesome," Brendon says when Kevin stumbles out of his bunk and into the front lounge the morning after the first night on the road. "You keep weird hours, too?"

It's eight in the morning, there's nothing weird about being awake this early. Of course, Kevin was the only one who went to bed at midnight, so maybe with these guys there is.

"I guess so."

"I should warn you," Brendon says, when Kevin reaches for the coffee pot, "that's Mocha Nut Fudge, and it's crazy sweet. And Spencer won't ever let you hear the end of it if we have the same taste in coffee."

"I've never heard the end of worse," Kevin says, and hums a little bit of "Scandinavia" while he fusses with the cream and sugar. Brendon starts humming along, and if maybe humming turns into singing, and the singing gets loud enough to have Spencer yelling at them to shut the Hell up, Kevin can always blame the combination of caffeine and early-tour jitters.

*

Shows, on the other hand, are one of Kevin's favorite things. He can handle touring, and the awful songwriting sessions that happen when someone who refuses to take himself lightly and someone who refuses to take himself seriously try to work together, and the contracts and the paperwork and being the butt of a joke that never ends, as long as he gets to go out on stage and play.

Except tonight he's not excited, he's so nervous he can't stand still. Which is awesome, because Brendon can't stand still on the best day, so they keep running into each other on their laps around the room, and Spencer keeps yelling at them to just sit the fuck down for ten minutes, they're making him crazy. Dallon's off in the corner ignoring them all, which is probably the best course of action.

There are a jillion people out there, and a lot of them want Kevin to fail, because Kevin's just the loser third of a Disney boy band, because Kevin doesn't belong on this stage with these people. Kevin might not have a big share of the Jonas Brothers fanbase, but at least none of them are actively rooting against him.

"Hey," Brendon says, loops his arm through Kevin's. "If we walk together, we can't run into each other, and then Spencer can't yell at us for running into each other."

"Spencer can find plenty of other things to yell at you for, jackass," Spencer says, but he doesn't follow through, and Brendon's vocal warmups in Kevin's ear drown out all the negative crap racing around in Kevin's head.

*

"No," Kevin says. "Not bad different."

"The internet thinks this is hilarious," Joe says, "even the people that don't think this is some kind of prank."

Nick's back on Broadway, to rave reviews. Two out of three of Joe's singles have gone to number one, and the whole album's rapidly approaching platinum. Kevin's gone from being the punch line in a joke he didn't realize anyone was telling until it was too late to the punch line of a setup that didn't involve him.

"The internet thinks dead babies are hilarious."

"I don't think that's a comparison you want to make, bro."

Kevin hadn't really thought before he said that. Kevin doesn't really think a lot of things through, at least not lately.

*

Usually, by the mid-point of a tour, Kevin's schedule has gone weird. There are too many nights he has to stay up late, thanks to commitments or parties or post-show adrenaline, for him to keep up his favored early-to-bed-early-to-rise system. But for whatever reason, no matter how long he stays up or how tired he is when he climbs into his bunk, Kevin's always up sometime between eight and eight-thirty.

Which is fine; tour always exists in this weird space where the normal rules don't apply, and Kevin's always done better on less sleep when he's on tour. Plus, the more he gets to know the guys, the less stressful the whole thing is for him, and the two-ish hours of daily Brendon-and-Kevin time is definitely doing a lot for that.

"This is almost too sweet for me," Brendon says, pouring a cup for Kevin.

"We probably could have guessed that." When Brendon had showed him the bag, Spencer had actually said _Oh my God, I miss Jon_. Considering that's the first time either of them mentioned the other two in any context other than "Ryan's vocals" or "Jon's parts" (and the one and only time Spencer put his foot down about a song, said there was no way they were doing it because it was Ryan-and-Jon's) there had to be something extra offensive about it. "And I like it. I'll take yours."

"Over my cold, dead body, Jonas. I said _almost_ too sweet."

"You don't have to fake it with me. If you can't handle a little sugar - "

"I'll handle _your_ sugar," Brendon says, and Kevin's gotten used to the constant sex jokes from Brendon and Spencer and Dallon, he really has, but he can feel his cheeks heating up.

 _You couldn't handle my sugar_ Joe's voice says in Kevin's head. It just makes Kevin blush harder.

*

The first time Kevin throws up from nerves, it's because Nick's coming to the show. Joe's been to three already, but Joe judges on a totally different set of criteria, and he's easier to impress. Joe can look at Kevin and see _happy_ , and see _having fun_ , and see _not totally embarrassing himself with that guitar_ , and give Kevin a high-five.

Nick can tell Kevin exactly where he messes up, where he's flat and where he's sharp and exactly how his guitar solos fail to achieve perfection. And he does it because he thinks it helps, because Nick's entire goal in life is to be perfect and anyone that tells him how he's not is just helping him out.

Brendon does his warmups in the bathroom stall, rubbing Kevin's back the whole time.

"You should do that every night," Brendon says, draping his arm around Kevin's shoulders after the show and soaking his shirt in sweat. "The whole 'my voice is screwed up from sucking a hundred cocks' thing sounds good on you."

Nick doesn't make fun of Kevin for blushing the way Joe would, just looks back and forth between them with an eyebrow raised in - judgement? Confusion? - until Brendon ruffles Kevin's hair and bounds off to go harass Spencer or Dallon.

"It was a good show," Nick says, finally. "You looked like you belonged up there, with them."

"I think I kind of do," Kevin says, and there's that eyebrow arch again.

*

Pete calls a little less than every week but a little more than every two weeks, checking up on Kevin. About a month and a half in, he starts saying things like "studio work" and "next tour". Kevin just _hmm_ s noncommittally when he does; he likes this band and the music is growing on him, and it doesn't take much soul-searching to figure out that he'd kind of like to keep doing this, at least for a little while. But it's Brendon and Spencer's band, and Kevin's not going to agree to anything without them asking first.

*

"Zack and I are going shoe shopping," Spencer says. "The rest of you losers can come, or be stuck on the bus."

Kevin's already zipping his boots up, because heck yes, Spencer had him at "shoe shopping". He's halfway to the door behind a surprisingly chipper Spencer and a less-surprisingly scowling Zack when Brendon grabs his wrist.

"Has no one warned you about shopping with Spencer?" he asks, all wide-eyed fake concern.

"You tried to," Kevin says, "and it sounded awesome."

"Oh. Okay, so you're that kind of weird, too."

"Yes," Kevin says, and tugs his arm out of Brendon's warm grip when Spencer hollers back they're about to leave without him.

Three stores and eight pairs of shoes (five for Spencer, three for Kevin) in, Spencer looks at Kevin from under the brim of the hat that, wow, if he doesn't buy it, Kevin's going to, and then he's going to make Spencer wear it all the time.

"Pete keeps calling me to ask about you," he says, shifts his focus to his reflection in the mirror behind Kevin's head. "I think he's having thoughts about whether you were the right choice."

"Second thoughts?"

"No, thoughts. Pete has a really bad habit of getting an idea, acting on it, _then_ thinking it through. I have no idea how he's not dead and broke right now."

"Right."

"I told him to stop worrying." Spencer scares Kevin, sometimes, partly because when he wants to be Spencer is a pretty intense guy (Kevin has seen Spencer laugh for twenty minutes straight at a fart joke, but somehow even that doesn't de-intensify him), and partly because as far as Kevin can tell Spencer was, maybe still is, closest to the one Kevin's technically replacing. He's always kind of half-waiting for the other fancy shoe to drop, for Spencer to reveal he's talked Ryan back into the band and Kevin needs to leave. "You're working out fine."

"Oh," Kevin says, because that's the only thought his mind's capable of forming, apparently. "Oh. I, uh. Thanks."

"You can buy me this hat to thank me," Spencer says, "and then when Brendon makes fun of my taste, I can send him your way."

*

There's a party the night they get in to Chicago, at Angels & Kings, and usually Kevin either avoids these things or finds a relatively quiet spot to hang out in, but this time Pete caught him on his way in the door and by the time they stopped talking about how Kevin's liking the tour so far, Pete's got him smack in the middle of the crowd.

He could get out, probably, find somewhere quiet to sit, but the thing is when Pete caught him, Pete handed him a drink, and then kept handing him drinks, and Kevin is definitely drunk enough not to care where he is.

"I have to pee," he announces, for no reason (well, he has to pee, that's the reason, but he's pretty sure nobody actually needed to know that), and only wobbles a little on his way to the bathroom.

There's a guy sitting up on the row of sinks, legs wrapped around another guy's waist, kissing like he wants to devour him whole.

"Oh," Kevin says, "occupied." He starts giggling, even though it wasn't funny. And then the guys look up, and the guy on the sink is - huh. Brendon. "Huh."

"Um," Brendon says, but Kevin doesn't know if that's all because he turns around and walks out. It. So Brendon kisses boys, okay, good for him, Brendon is awesome and should kiss anyone he wants. Just. For that split second between him looking up and Kevin walking out, Kevin had this sudden, uncomfortably intense urge to be the guy kissing Brendon.

He's way too drunk to handle that. Possibly it only happened because he was drunk, and he'll never need to deal with it sober. That would be good.

It's hot in the club, way too hot, and Kevin kind of wants to be in bed, but he's nothing if not a good guest so he has to hunt down Pete first. It's not exactly hard, Pete's kind of loud. And he laughs like a donkey.

"I think I'm going back to the hotel," he says, and Pete just nods.

"I'll get you a cab, hold up."

There's an arm in Kevin's, suddenly, compact body pressed all along his side. "I've got him, Pete, I already called."

Pete cocks his head, and Kevin's pretty sure he's having one of those obnoxious silent eye-conversation things. Kevin hates when people do that.

"Cool," Pete says, with his mouth, and then Brendon's leading Kevin out into the chilly night air.

"You didn't have to leave your kissing," Kevin says, and Brendon laughs even though Kevin was being totally sincere.

"It's fine."

The cab ride is nice; it's cold out, but they're hot and sweaty from the club, and they keep the windows cracked. Brendon stays pressed up against Kevin's side, hasn't let go of his arm since he grabbed on.

He doesn't let go until they're upstairs, until suddenly it's a little weird that they're alone in Kevin and Dallon's room and Brendon who kisses boys is, like, one step down from holding Kevin's hand. At least, it's weird for Kevin, he doesn't know if it is for Brendon, why Brendon lets go.

"Did that freak you out?" Brendon asks, and oh, Kevin left so fast, maybe Brendon thought - oh.

"No, no. You can - no, kiss whoever you want, you can kiss, like, every dude, it's cool." Kevin's having a hard time getting the words from his brain to his mouth. Or, like, stopping them in between to make them into coherent sentences.

"Every dude, huh?"

"Um. Yes."

"Okay," Brendon says, and, "please don't freak out." Which is kind of a weird thing to - oh. _Oh_.

Brendon's lips on his aren't freaky at all, they're soft and a little damp and just as nice as they look. Oh. Okay, then.

*

Kevin wakes up to an empty bed - empty room, the other bed is neatly made and free of Dallon - and a way less intense headache than he maybe should have expected. The only other time he's been drunk he was out of commission for basically the entire next day.

He'd kind of prefer that, because if it hurt to think he'd have a really awesome excuse not to think about how Dallon not being here probably means he came in at some point last night and saw, and how Brendon not being here probably means he's, like, in with Spencer and Dallon laughing about Kevin. Not that Kevin necessarily thinks Brendon would laugh at him. Lots of people do - Spencer, Kevin's pretty sure, does - but not Brendon. At least not to Kevin's face.

Still. The fact that he apparently couldn't tell Brendon "no, it's cool, I don't care if you're gay" without making out with him for an hour is kind of laughable.

The door clicks open and shut, and the room fills with the smell of coffee. Oh, so, that makes a lot more sense, that Brendon left to get coffee, not to make fun of him.

"Chocolate or caramel?"

"Um," Kevin says, sits up a little. "Chocolate."

It shouldn't matter, usually Brendon gets both the flavors he wants, then sticks close to Kevin so they can trade sips. This time, though, Brendon hands Kevin his cup, then sits at the foot of the bed.

"So," he says, "this doesn't have to be weird."

Kevin doesn't really know how to respond. He's kissed six people in his life, three with tongue. There's a song about one of them, a bitter, angry, mean kind of song. He married one, and she left him - mutual, mutual, they left each other - because...a lot of reasons. And one's Brendon. It's a little weird.

"Okay."

"You're weird about it, aren't you?"

"Um," Kevin says, because yes, but he doesn't want to make Brendon feel bad. "I didn't know you were gay."

"Bi," Brendon says, takes a long sip of his drink and winces. Hopefully because of brain freeze, not because Kevin called him the wrong version of boy-who-kisses-boys. "And I didn't know you were."

"I'm not," Kevin says; Brendon arches an eyebrow, cocks his head, but Kevin cuts him off before he can push. "It's not. It's a little weird. But not, like, not Weird."

Brendon doesn't look convinced, but he doesn't say anything else.

*

"What kind of asshole sends _that_ in a text?"

"I always compliment you in texts."

Joe sighs. "Don't do that shit. 'Like the new video. BTW might b gay'. Really? This is why Nick thinks you're hopeless."

"Nick thinks I'm hopeless because I don't get off on criticism."

"That, too. But, I mean...where. What. Where is this coming from? You're all, like, get married and have a hundred babies."

"I kind of tried that one." Kevin's pretty sure the sound he hears is Joe smacking his forehead.

"You're gay because you messed up once?"

"No. I. No. Just. There was a thing. A Brendon thing."

"So, okay, you know how you're kind of an oversensitive drama queen?"

Yes. "No?"

"Yes you do. But, like, you get all huffy when people are all 'ha ha Jonas Brothers ha ha', right, so maybe, like, you're just kind of extra attached to people who you think are gonna do that and don't. And then you're just turning that into a crush because you're a drama queen."

"Wow."

"Wow as in 'wow, Joe, you're so smart and good at everything'?"

"Wow as in 'I don't have a crush on Brendon', I just. Kissed him."

There's silence, then, for just long enough to make Kevin feel really, really awkward. Joe's almost better at that than Nick, sometimes.

"You. Oh my God, Kevin."

"It's not - it was a lot of kissing."

"Why did you even kiss him if you don't like him?"

"I like him."

"You know what I meant."

"There was alcohol involved? And, I don't know. Alcohol."

Silence, again. Kevin has never regretted a text so much in his life, seriously.

"Kevin," Joe says, like he's talking to a five-year-old. "If the gayest thing you ever do when you're drunk is kiss a friend, I don't think your heterosexuality is in danger. It. I mean, be whatever you are, Kevin, I just. Maybe you're making too big a deal out of it."

"Maybe."

Zack appears in the doorway, looking extra-scowly. Kevin didn't really mean to be on the phone this long.

"I've gotta go get ready, Joe, I'll talk to you later."

"Yeah, sure. Just, y'know, stop freaking yourself out, dude. Bye."

*

The last night of the tour is weird. They're always kind of sad, no matter how sick of buses and dirty laundry Kevin is, but tonight is...well. No one other than Pete has said anything about what happens next, and Pete kind of talks about it in vague what-ifs, so he doesn't actually know if he's ever going to see these people again after they go home tonight.

At least Kevin knows, now, that this isn't really his thing. Playing with Panic, yes, he liked it a lot more than he expected, just, spending a month of rehearsals and then a tour getting to know people and music and then just moving on to another set of people and music isn't really his thing. So, okay, Guitarist-For-Hire is one more thing he can scratch off his list of potential careers to replace the Jonas Brothers with.

The last show is in L.A., and instead of bundling back onto the bus after showers, everyone's just going home, and that's it. Spencer shakes Kevin's hand, and so does Dallon, and Brendon takes Kevin's offered handshake and uses it to pull him into a sweaty hug.

"We'll hang out, dude," he says, and whether he means it or not, Kevin's kind of glad to hear it.

*

Six weeks after the tour, Kevin's had dinner with his parents six times ("I don't know if they're mad at you, or just worried, but they're driving me crazy," Joe kept saying, and that did the trick because the only thing more powerful than Kevin's ability to avoid people who might make him feel like a disappointment is his guilt), sent Dallon thirteen animals-acting-like-people videos, and gone on at least eight dates with Brendon.

"I wish you'd stop calling them that," Kevin says, rummaging through his shirt drawer. "It doesn't really help with the whole confused about my sexuality thing."

"You're not confused," Joe says. "You're in denial."

"And of course you'd know better than me."

"Yes. And don't wear that shirt."

"I don't know why I even let you come over," Kevin says, but he puts it aside anyway.

"Because you need someone to un-freak you. And fuck you, I'm an awesome houseguest. I just don't see what the big deal is - you kissed a guy, you liked it, you want to do it a hundred more times."

"No."

"See? Denying it. Denial."

"I hate you."

"Just, I dunno, don't put a name on it. You're all worried that you might be gay, so don't think of it as being gay."

"I'm not freaked out," Kevin says, tugs a shirt on so he can give up the search and look at Joe while he's talking. "That's the thing. I'm not freaked out at all, and it freaks me out, because - I should be, right? Like that I could just make out with a guy and not think anything of it when I can't do that with girls."

"You're freaked out because there's nothing to freak out about?"

"I. Yes. Apparently."

Joe switches moods, then, Kevin can almost see his eyes shift from teasing to sincere. "Kevin, dude. You've always sucked at girls. So maybe this is why, and maybe you should just be glad you're figuring it out after one failed marriage, not ten."

There isn't really any part of that thought Kevin can argue with. He doesn't try very long before he realizes he doesn't really _want_ to argue with it.

*

Three hours into a Guitar Hero marathon, Kevin pauses halfway through "Band on the Run".

"I lied, I think," he says, and Brendon looks confused, but doesn't ask. "Um. I. I am gay. Or. Ish."

"Gay-ish," Brendon repeats. "Cool."

An hour later, Brendon fucks up their best run at five stars on "Hot For Teacher" on expert when he leans over and presses his lips to Kevin's.

*

The thing is, maybe Joe was right , maybe they were going on dates, because except for the huge increase in the amount of kissing and sleepovers (and very occasional Other Stuff, but Brendon's actually pretty awesome about taking it as slow as Kevin wants to), nothing really changes.

*

"Not lunch, we're recording," Brendon says, and Kevin stops mid-stir. Okay, no, he didn't know where he stood after the tour, or if they were going to want him back for anything, but he kind of assumed, especially in light of the whole dating-Brendon thing, someone would have actually told him outright if he wasn't coming back. "You there?"

"Uh," Kevin says. He can hear someone in the background, can just barely make out Spencer's Brendon-you're-being-a-moron tone.

"Spencer thinks I might have forgotten to tell you we're not using studio musicians at all, and you think I just fired you."

"Spencer's kind of right."

"He usually is. Um, yeah, no, you are definitely not fired."

Spencer's laughing in the background.

*

It's splashed on the page in purple letters next to Brendon's head, "When I told Pete the Jonas Brothers were available, I didn't think he'd take me seriously!"

The interview's nice, it is, Brendon's good at being diplomatic and charming, and he tells a good story, and basically everything Kevin ever learned about looking good on paper comes to Brendon naturally. Still, Kevin's eyes keep drifting to the purple quote on the first page.

It's not - it's obvious he's joking, it's not like Kevin thinks he actually means he didn't want Pete to call. He can see it, see them making the joke, but he can't see either of them following through on it. It's just. Kevin can't quite put his finger on the punch line, and he thinks it might be him.

"You seem kind of distracted," Brendon murmurs against Kevin's neck, scrapes his teeth a little.

"No," Kevin says, but Brendon sits up and Kevin can tell he doesn't believe him. "I don't like being a joke."

"Okay."

Kevin's eyes drift over to the magazine sitting open on his coffee table; when he looks back, Brendon's looking the same direction.

"This is probably the wrong thing to say to you when you're being insecure," Brendon says, shifts to lie next to Kevin. "But you're kind of an idiot."

"I don't - "

"I was making fun of Pete," Brendon says. "Or all the other jokes people have made about it. I wouldn't make fun of you, you're kind of oversensitive."

"People keep telling me that."

"Because it's true," Brendon says, kisses Kevin lightly. "You're funny. And sometimes, yes, you kind of set yourself up. But you're not a joke."

Very few people have bothered to say that; fewer have bothered to sound like they mean it.

Nick is up for a Tony Award. Joe's on top-ten single number four, and he passed platinum a while ago. Kevin plays music he's never going to help write in a band he gets hate mail for being part of.

He's actually pretty okay with that.


End file.
